


in times of darkness

by gold_rush



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Best Friends, Chocobros - Freeform, Eating, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Guilt, M/M, Romance, Self Confidence Issues, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 00:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11280147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gold_rush/pseuds/gold_rush
Summary: Gladio and Ignis go on a romantic dinner date but, the world being what it is, Noctis and Prompto have to go too. The only problem: when you're not used to having/doing nice things, nice things can be hard to deal with.





	in times of darkness

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever ffxv story! Let me know how you feel. I might make this into a series?
> 
> Inspired by a prompt I saw but lost track of.
> 
>  
> 
> [CW: Eating disorder/depression - fleeting mentions, nothing graphic]
> 
> .

In an ever-darkening world, romance is difficult. Those taken-for-granted days, strolling arm in arm across golden sands at sunset - not a care in the world, are long gone. More than that, those days are dead. It’s simply too dangerous to revel in the silver-hued shadows of the night now; there can be no fumbling under the cover of trees, no laughing with faces tilted towards stars as legs dangle over blackened bridges, no heated kisses in long shadows cast by tall buildings.

And it’s not that they’ve done any of those things and miss them, no, they both opened up to one another far too late for any of that, it’s that they’ll probably never get the _chance_ to do it. Because Gladio and Ignis are intelligent enough to realise that there’s a real possibility that they won’t survive this. There’s a real possibility that they’ll never see true peace. And that’s no one’s fault. I will be no one’s fault. Not Prompto - who believes down to his bones that he’s their weakest-link. And not Noctis - despite what he discloses when he’s tired, or hurting, or feeling far too much like a burden.

After all, this is what they do, this is what they swore they’d do, this is what they _want_ to do. There’s not a chance in hell they’d leave Noctis alone on this journey - this strange, dark, dangerous voyage - and so they take what they can and they try to make it feel okay. They try to live out the heart of it all rather than wonder what it might have been because this, this flourishing thing that they have between them, is good and it’s true - no matter how many shadows pour themselves across it.  

And that’s exactly how they end up in Lestallum, surrounded by chirpy chatter and clinking cutlery. They’ve seized a single moment – found a fragment of chaos and reclaimed it for themselves. This repurposed pandemonium becomes a space where they get to be in love without fear or disquiet, just for a little while. The soft orange glow of the restaurant bathing its patrons in hope, false or otherwise. It makes no real difference, all that truly matters is what they want to believe.

The room itself is busy, bustling with life; packed with exhausted people taking what they can get with both hands. Everyone ignoring the unspoken sense of unease that comes hand-in-hand with an unexpected opportunity to relax, but people are smiling and holding hands across tables like their lives depend on it. And Gladio and Ignis are no different.  

They’ve been seated for mere moments when a waiter appears beside their table and asks, voice full of sincerity and delight, if they’d like a candle for their table.

‘Oh, yeah, we would,’ Gladio says with a wide grin, his low voice playful as he pulls his hands away from Ignis’, allowing the man to set a red candle down between them with well-practiced grace and the agile hands of a gunslinger.

Ignis hums softly as the waiter lights the candlewick but he isn’t watching, instead he’s looking down at the neatly embroidered tablecloth, giving it far too much of his attention, pointlessly counting its stitches, grouping them by colour; it seems so silly, really. Something as simple and easy as Gladio’s toothy smile shouldn’t force tears to swell in his eyes. But it does. It’s hard for him to remember that smile sometimes - so each new time always seems like the first -  because their days are too long, and too heavy, and too messy to recall such beautifully simplistic things. There’s so little time for happiness when all you seem to do is fight for your life and lives of your friends.

Ignis closes his eyes, tries to breathe away the rising emotion, tries to seem less shaken. They’ve only been in the building for five minutes; the night is young. He tells himself so, again and again. He says, _this is just the beginning_. But still, it lingers, that thought in the back of his brain that won’t stop screaming: _what if you never see that smile again? what if this is it? what if you never get to --_

Gladio reaches out, around the burning candle that smells like roses and amber, and clutches the top of Ignis’ clenched hand. Squeezing softly, reminding him that he’s not alone. Using his presence to ground his lover, to bring him back from his dissenting thoughts - as he does with all of them when they find themselves at a loose end.  

Ignis can’t tell if it’s the heat of Gladio’s touch, or his own embarrassment, but warmth rushes through him regardless. And he’s suddenly torn between profound joy and complete nausea.

‘Iggy?’ Gladio asks quietly and the smile is gone now, he can hear that much.

‘Forgive me,’ Ignis says, after a weighty pause. Pointlessly pushing his index finger against the frame of his glasses. Shifting so he sits a little taller in his chair before he forces his eyes upwards to meet that concerned, honey gaze.

‘Listen, we don’t have to be here. We can go somewhere else, somewhere different, somewhere quieter?’ Gladio offers earnestly and Ignis’ face flushes crimson in apology. He’s making a mess of this. He’s managing to ruin their evening before it even gets started.

‘No. No, it’s not that. I want to be here. I do. I like it here. It’s just…’

‘It feels strange,’ Gladio finishes and Ignis nods. Of course, he understands. Why wouldn’t he? ‘Yeah, I get that. We’re not used to nice things, huh? It’s been a while.’

‘Indeed,’ Ignis smiles back, far too unconvincingly. He’s never been good at faking it.

But before he can berate himself again, a flat hand is pressing itself firmly against the middle of his back, a soft thumb stroking once across the fabric of his shirt before it stills somewhere close to the palm.

Ignis hums gratefully and smiles over at the hand's owner – it belongs to Noctis, of course it does, he’s been sitting quietly beside him since they arrived. The young man offers him a small, supportive smile before he goes back to swirling water around a wine glass with his free hand. Most of his face lost in his hair. He’s so much kinder than he likes to think he is. Ignis watches him for a moment, fondly remembering the boy who grew into the fine man that he has become.

When Ignis does look away, lest he be accused of ‘acting weird again’ by his charge, he catches Prompto watching him from across the table, the blonde nodding and smiling at him in a way that says, without the need for words, _‘you’re doing fine! don’t worry about it, you’ve totally go this!_ ’

Prompto’s own hand is pressed against the small of Gladio’s spine. His forearm moving up and down with the rhythmic action of his hand. Another kind soul. This isn’t easy, not for any of them. He’s sure that Noctis and Prompto would rather be somewhere else. In a hotel room sprawled out on the beds, or at their own table talking loudly about _King’s Knight_ while only ordering desserts, or camping out under the stars telling tall tales… because maybe even _camping_ would be more fun for them than this. But they can’t split up, they can’t afford to be in separate places, not even for the length of a meal. Not when that means they can’t keep proper tabs on one another. They haven’t come this far to mess it all up now. A little alone time isn’t worth that much, not in the grand scheme of things. So, they stick together.

The first time they’d suggested going out for a romantic evening, Prompto had jumped straight out of his camp-chair and shouted, ‘Aw, yesss! Who said romance was dead?!’ While Noctis had simply smiled and said, ‘Where are we going?’ Because he’d instantly understood that they’d all be going together. Gladio and Ignis had half-expected him to complain, had expected him to at least mope about it for a while. Because, God, does he love a good mope. And, oh, does he hate co-operating on anything that isn’t obviously life-threatening. But he did, and still does, neither.

In consequence, Gladio has found himself wondering if Noctis’ profound sense of guilt is the reason that he never complains about their few-and-far-between dates. It’s a familiar topic that rears its ugly head at unexpected moments; forcing the others to listen to him as he talks about how he believes he has ruined their lives unforgivably. And that hurts. It hurts all of them. Especially Prompto, who always seems to take everything so personally – a trait that Gladio believes is a curse of a gift for such a kind and empathetic person.

Noct’s guilty moments come without warning. Sometimes they almost make sense, they’ll be patching each other up after a battle and Noctis will just stand up with gritted teeth and say, _‘you shouldn't be pushing me out of the way like that’_ which Gladio always tries to laugh off by saying, _‘that’s literally in my job description, Noct.’_ But sometimes – far more worryingly - he’ll be eating dinner and tears will start tracking down his cheeks; in those moments, he’ll say something like, _‘look, I don’t want you all to die for this - for me - and I just… I don’t know how to stop this, I don’t know how to make this all go away.’_ Which always makes them feel sick and increasingly paranoid that he’ll try and run away in the middle of the night. So, whenever that happens Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto take turns to stay awake and watch over him quietly. Thankfully, they haven’t had to do that for a while. But they’re always ready to.

Across the restaurant table, Gladio keeps a firm hold of Ignis’ hand. Slowly, he gets his lover talking again, gets him out and away from that headspace that tries to shut his voice down. Then he gets him laughing, the ultimate victory, and they wait patiently for their food.

These nights, they’re all or nothing nights. So, they’ve all ordered starters, and way too much bread, and things that they’ve never even heard of for their mains, because what do they have to lose here? A few thousand Gil? That’s so inconsequential that they order two desserts each. And Ignis doesn’t even tell them off for it – instead, he opts for a cherry torte and an overly complicated ice-cream sundae.

Apart from the amount of food being consumed, eating out is just like eating around a campfire. Except with more touching. That’s what Prompto has come to understand as he dips bread into a steaming bowl of freshly-arrived soup. Almost choking on a chunk of it when Gladio takes a sip from a spoon and lets out a low, almost-orgasmic groan.

‘Iggy,’ he says once he’s regained his composure, staring at his lover with wide, pleading eyes, ‘You’ve gotta learn how to make this!’

And these rare romantic meals don’t always mean better food because Ignis is a spectacular cook. But it’s always nice. He likes going out with them, really. They all get to unwind a little, even if he and Noct mainly just play _King’s Knight_ on their phones as the evening drags on and their friends get increasingly handsy. But he knows that they deserve it, in fact, he thinks Gladio and Ignis probably do the most out of all of them, and not just in terms of fighting. Ignis feeds them, organises them, and finds them nice places to stay; Gladio keeps them fighting-fit with his morning hikes, he’s always up for an adventure, and he makes them laugh when they can’t even remember what laughter sounds like anymore.

And, on a more personal level, they help Prompto with his own issues too. He’s grateful for that. So, _so_ grateful. When he was younger, he never believed - not in a million years - that he’d have a single person in his life who cared about him. So, he always feels like he’s hit the jackpot with them. And they’re more than kind, they’re patient with him too.

If he can’t drag himself out of bed in the morning, Gladio will tell him that if he manages to get up they can go and visit the chocobos. Regardless of what they were supposed to be doing that day. If he’s struggling with his eating, which still happens sometimes – mostly when he’s anxious or feeling bad about something – Ignis will be patient with him and make him his favourite food; he’ll even give him smaller portions and not be mad if he can’t finish everything -  so long as he eats _enough_.  And all of that helps Prompto remember that he’s not _pathetic_ , and _stupid_ , and _gross_ ; it reminds him that he’s not unworthy of the time and energy of others. And then, of course, there’s Noctis, who will stay up late with him taking silly selfies and tell him that he’s missed him, even if he’s only been away to take a ten-minute nap. Because he knows that Prompto’s brain likes to sabotage him and make him think that he’s not worthy of even associating with them, let alone of being the best friend that Noct’s ever had.

So, yes, maybe siting in that restaurant in Lestallum – watching the love blossom so openly between Gladio and Ignis - makes his heart beat way too fast. Because everything else always seems so dark and scary but this is such a good and bright thing. And, yes, maybe watching Noctis roll his eyes in despair as their friends wipe food off each other’s faces makes him smile too broadly. And maybe that seems silly. Especially to someone on the outside. But sometimes, while Gladio and Ignis are in a world of their own, he gets to see the love on Noct’s face as he stares at them fondly from behind his dark hair. Sometimes, he gets to see a genuine grin on the face of someone who has so little to smile about. And that’s important, that matters, because their road is so long, and so hard, and so uncertain and there’s such a weight on his best friend’s shoulders that he finds beatific solace in any flash of happiness that rushes across his face.

And that means something. It has to.

If they must live in a world like this, where they have to work so hard just to carve out a single moment to breathe, if they have to fight and be afraid and still keep going, then in matters that they can smile, that they can make their own happiness, even just for a moment. Doesn't it?


End file.
